Sour Candy
by Santanico
Summary: It's Halloween in the 'Haven, and Lady Vic's none too happy about it.


Disclaimer: all characters and places mentioned in this entirely non-profit fanfic are the properties of DC Comics. No copyright infringement is intended. The fic itself, however, is MINE! ALL MINE! MWOO-HA-HAAA!  
  
  
  
_Sour Candy_  
  
By: Santanico  
  
  
  
"Halloween. All Hallow's Eve. Samhain, as the pagans called it. When the leaves spiral down in crackling death throes to the filthy, rain-slicked Bludhaven streets; when the scent of bonfires overwhelms even the smell of the decaying sea; when the sun itself hides its face hours ahead of schedule, in fear of the dark spirits dancing upon the wind...  
  
"Leave it to the Americans to turn this sacred occasion into an excuse to send their homonculi begging door-to-door for confectionary."  
  
Lady Vic watched the crimson liquid in her glass swirl as she tilted her hand this way and that, then gave it a delicate sip. "I cannot honestly say that this is my favorite time of the year, Bivens," she said, setting the glass down beside her and gazing into the fire, watching the flames leap high into the blackened chimney, their shadows throwing the elegant carvings around the fireplace into harsh, shrouded relief. "In my opinion, children ought to leave the costumed shenanigans to their elders. Additionally, business is much too slow for my liking."  
  
"Most of your contacts are busy with family affairs, M'Lady," Bivens replied, drawing the red velvet curtains back from the gilded picture window.  
  
Vic snorted in an unladylike fashion. "As if all transactions need cease the moment some prefabricated holiday season lurks upon the horizon. None of my contacts are exactly faithful family men for much of the rest of the year, so why should now be any different?"  
  
"With all due respect, M'Lady," said Bivens "Children need protection around this time. Venturing door-to-door has its hazards."  
  
"Then let the little monsters find that out for themselves," Vic said bitterly, holding up her empty glass and gazing through its crystalline prisms. "It's the only way they'll learn what the world is really like. And a few less trick-or-treaters is hardly something the world at large could be any the poorer for."  
  
Bivens did not reply; merely refilled her glass. Vic gazed at him, trying to gauge some reaction. Strange; Bivens had been her loyal manservant since the days of her own childhood, and yet even now, she had no way to tell what he was thinking or feeling at any given time. She supposed she had picked up her own masklike traits from him.  
  
"I don't mean to offend, Bivens."  
  
"You didn't, M'Lady."  
  
She paused. "I don't suppose you have any family of your own to take care of this time of the year?"  
  
Bivens paused. "Not any longer, M'Lady."  
  
Intrigued, Lady Vic leaned forward, gathering her warm red robe around herself. "But you did once?"  
  
"A long time ago, M'Lady. So long ago as to be almost irrelevant now."  
  
"Tell me about it." Vic placed her bare feet upon a tasselled footstool. Sitting down in the chair opposite hers, Bivens began to rub them gently; her last assignment had left her with blisters on the soles, and even now, some weeks later, they ached whenever she had to place too much pressure upon them.  
  
"It's quite uninteresting, M'Lady," Bivens said stiffly. "It was some time before you were born."  
  
"Do tell me," Vic said, surprised to find how piqued her interest was. Ordinarily, she never took much notice of the lives or pasts of her servants; indeed, it was difficult for her to comprehend that they even had lives that did not involve her or her family. Something about the season - or was it merely the brandy? - was making her oddly maudlin, softening her edges. Mentally, she gently chided herself for that. Her edge was not something she could afford to lose. But here, with her oldest acquaintance, she supposed it could do no harm.  
  
Bivens exhaled, very slightly; Vic might almost have mistaken it for a sigh. "Some years ago, M'Lady - before you were born, as I said - I was married to a lady by the name of Sarah. We had a daughter, name of Julia."  
  
"Bivens..." Vic sat up straight, pulling her feet back, wrapping an arm around her knee, her tone almost shocked. "You never told me you had a wife and child."  
  
"Respectfully, M'Lady, you never did ask."  
  
"I suppose I never did, at that," mused Vic. "It never occurred to me, somehow."  
  
"It isn't quite relevant any more, M'Lady. Sarah and Julia passed away in an automobile accident. It was while I was accompanying your parents on their trip to India. I only found out that they had passed on long after the funeral services had been held."  
  
"Oh, good lord," Vic said softly. "Bivens, I'm...I'm just _too_ sorry." Bivens did not look up. "Well, it wasn't all terrible, M'Lady. Your parents were very kind. They offered to raise my salary, but I refused. It shames me to admit to it now, M'Lady, but I felt that I no longer cared much about life any more. I considered taking my own, in point of fact."  
  
Vic shuddered at the thought, at the very idea of how close she had come to losing him. "What a dreadful thing to think. Still, I could never have blamed you." A brief pause. "What..." she ventured, tentatively "What stopped you?"  
  
"New hope, M'Lady." Bivens raised his head, looked her in the eye; he was the only servant who was allowed to do such a thing. "Two months after I buried my family, Lady Calliope Marsh-Morton - your mother - announced that she was with child. Nine months after that, she gave birth to a beautiful baby girl."  
  
A shiver wracked Lady Vic's spinal column; in the half-light, she suddenly seemed very young, very fragile. "And four months after that..." she whispered.  
  
"Both Lord and Lady Marsh-Morton passed away themselves, Madam," Bivens said, voice low and gentle.  
  
Vic swallowed some more brandy; she felt its intoxicating warmth slide past the uncomfortable lump that had taken residence in her throat. "And they never did find out who planted the bomb, did they, Bivens?"  
  
"On account of their profession, your parents had many enemies, M'Lady," Bivens replied, folding his hands across his knees. "It was impossible to discover which of them had done the deed."  
  
Vic shut her eyes, and exhaled sharply. "The way of the world, I suppose," she said, her voice unnaturally high, brittle.  
  
"Perhaps, M'Lady," said Bivens. "But it was also the way of the world that I found myself with a young girl to raise once again. It was also the way of the world that that young girl not only took to her parents' profession, but actually exceeded even their abilities. The way of the world..." He paused, and looked down into the rich, patterned carpeting "Can be an exceedingly difficult thing to predict, M'Lady."  
  
Vic sat forward again. "When they died," she said quietly. "It was this time of year, wasn't it, Bivens?"  
  
"I believe so, M'Lady."  
  
"I remember the Jack-O-Lantern beside my crib," Vic went on, her voice deepening, beginning ever so slightly to waver. "I remember the way the candle glowed inside it, staining my face with warm orange light. I remember glittering fairy lights in the bare branches of the tree just outside the window of my nursery. Those are all I remember. I don't remember my parents. I don't remember them at all. But I do remember that it was Halloween."  
  
A long silence descended upon the room. The crackling of the fire was the only sound within hearing, and even that was growing faint, dying away to embers.  
  
"Bivens?" Vic said, at last.  
  
"Yes, M'Lady?"  
  
"Surely it wouldn't do any harm to offer the next trick-or-treaters who come to the door some kind of reward, after all. I'm sure we have some chocolate-chip biscuits stored away in the pantry."  
  
"I shall go and see immediately, M'Lady."  
  
"And if we don't have any..."  
  
"I'll bake some myself."  
  
Vic smiled, and curled up in her chair as Bivens turned to leave the room. A thought striking her, she turned around quickly, leaning over back of the upholstered seat. "Actually, Bivens - " She called.  
  
He stopped. "Yes, M'Lady?"  
  
"Actually, if we don't have any biscuits..." She smiled, the familiar touch of wickedness grazing her rosebud lips. "Whip up a batch of sour candy. After all, I've long believed that no holiday season deserves to be overly sweet." 


End file.
